


Truly Free

by MissCricket



Series: 30 Stories of Carver Hawke [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Aftercare, Dom/sub, M/M, Past Sexual Abuse, Safe Sane and Consensual, past sexual slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 10:11:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6466243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCricket/pseuds/MissCricket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris discovers with Isabela that he is unable to enjoy intimacy without being dominated and struggles with this reminder of his slavery. Looking at his Companions for assistance, he finds it with the young Grey Warden, Carver Hawke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truly Free

**Author's Note:**

> For Sparrow!

The chains are gone, but are you truly free?

~*~

“Are you sure this is what you want?” The voice was soft and warm, a note of hesitation to it, a hint of the other’s own inexperience in this matter.

Instead of making him unsure, it simply solidified his decision.

“I am certain.”

~*~

Fenris rubbed his hands over his face, long fingers sliding through his soft, silvered hair as he pushed it back off his face with a low sigh. Behind him, he could hear the soft sound of rustling as Isabela fixed up her clothing, and then the pirate slid over the sheets to sit beside him.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of sweet thing,” she started, but he wasn’t in any mood for her comfort, not now he’d realised how deeply Danarius’ chains went.

“Save your pity,” he growled at her, and stared at the floor tiles as she sighed before standing. Long legs stepped into his line of vision and he looked up into a pair of understanding dark eyes.

“Understanding isn’t pity,” Isabela informed him, hand cocking on her hip, “And it’s understandable this would happen.” He moved to speak and blinked as her warm hand clapped over his mouth, “And I understand that you want to be an angry little boar about this. The solution is simple. Find a lover you trust enough to control you, and then slowly work towards something less...subservient, if it truly bothers you.”

Fenris glared at her, cheeks still a little flushed with embarrassment at his inability to perform without being so debased.

“Oh yes,” he growled through her fingers, “Simple.”

Isabela sighed again and he felt his skin prickle with annoyance once more. Isabela’s inability to understand others...hesitance for physical intimacy, was one of the things that frustrated him most. Especially when it was directed at him. It was all well and good to say, ‘just do it’, when it was a very different proposition to convince your body to enjoy something that made your skin crawl with fear.

“I will figure it out.” He snapped, pushing away from her and striding to the fireplace, uncaring of his nudity.

“Well if you change your mind, sweet thing, I would be more than happy to take charge in bed.” She informed him, before sashaying towards the door.

He watched her go, appreciating her form even as he felt no desire to take her up on her offer. She had been an easy choice...but not right for this. In the end he trusted her as a friend, and to watch his back in battle...but not with this.

Nothing about his freedom had been easy. It made sense that this should be no exception.

~*~

“Kneel.”

He’d never heard that note in his voice before. He’d heard it in Aveline’s voice during drills and patrols with her guardsmen. And he’d heard it often enough in Hawke’s strong bellow during a pitched struggle. It was a note of command, that tone that made everyone listen and follow.

It was unexpected coming from this man, but not at all unwelcome.

“Yes...master.”

~*~

He realised very quickly that his options were severely limited.

Anders wasn’t even in the running. Not only was he a mage, and abomination, he was also insufferable and prone to prating about the abuses his kind suffered. He also seemed wilfully blind as to the damage mages could do, and Fenris didn’t trust him one little bit.

Merrill was also not an option. A mage also, she was naive and foolish, as well as being the thrall of some demon that she believed to control. Her delusions would result in her death, and likely the deaths of those around her. He had had enough of blood magic, naive or otherwise, so Merrill was not an option.

He had already ruled out Isabela after their failed attempt at intimacy, and thankfully she had not pursued the matter further than a few friendly asides. Varric was unsuitable simply because he didn’t wish to be suitable.

His friendship with the Prince of Starkhaven might have been enough to consider trusting the man enough for this, but Sebastian had a lot of other demons. His struggle with family duty, and chantry vow ate at him, and Fenris cared about him enough to refrain from broaching the subject. Trust was there, but it would be selfish of him to ask for this.

Aveline was courting Donnic, and that left Hawke.

He trusted Hawke sure enough, but at the same time he couldn’t help drawing back from him. He reminded him of an open fire, warm and comforting but with the chance of being burned. He was a leader, a mover and shaker, he changed things around him, simply by being. Yes he trusted Hawke enough for this….and yet he also did not.

Which left him rather out of options.

That is until after the Qunari attack.

~*~

“Good,” 

The man’s large hand ran through his hair, blunt nails scratching pleasurably along his scalp, and he couldn’t help but tilt his head up into it. The resulting laugh was low, but kind, and the hand travelled over his neck to settle on his jaw, the fingers deftly avoiding the tender lyrium lines.

“Do you know how beautiful you are Fenris?”

The question made him frown and look up, unsure, “Master?”

“It is a simple question. Do you know how beautiful you are?”

Fenris licked his lips, warmth pooling in his belly, “It does not matter what I think.”

“On the contrary,” Blue eyes bored into his, bright and compelling, “I consider it very important. I asked you a question Fenris….I will not ask again.”

He hesitated, unable to answer, throat clutching the words.

“No,” the man murmured, the large hand sliding back into his hair and gently gripping, “You do not. That will change. I will show you, how beautiful you are.”

~*~

“Look who’s back from the dead!” Hawke carolled, striding into Varric’s suite in the Hanged Man, followed by an even taller man in a soft black tunic and breeches.

Fenris paused, wine halfway to his lips and stared.

It had been three years since he’d seen the younger Hawke brother, watching as the boy waved back towards the city as the Deep Roads expedition wound towards its fate. He’d left with his brother, Varric and the abomination, and only the latter three had returned, with a tight lipped story of taint and archdemon blood.

He knew the younger Hawke had survived his taint to become a Grey Warden, his brother had found him during the fight with the Qunari, but he’d had to leave almost immediately. Now it seemed he was back.

The years had been kind to him.

When he’d left them, he’d still been very much a boy, all of nineteen years old, with limbs and muscles he hadn’t grown into yet. His face had been tight, always sharp with sadness, or bitterness, or something else that had been very familiar to Fenris. He’d attempted to bond with the former slave, but Fenris had rebuffed all overtures. He didn’t want or need Carver Hawke’s friendship.

Now he’d finally grown into his muscle and mass, his coal black hair was slightly longer and his blue eyes were softer. He’d lost the last of the adolescent baby fat around the face, revealing a sculpted jaw, and a mouth which seemed to be made to smile, rather than scowl.

He’d always been handsome, but had paled next to his brother. Now he was dramatic with the pale skin, dark hair, and blue eyes next to his brother more earthy browns, no longer hidden in the shadows, nor trying to claim the spotlight.

“Carver!” Isabela’s voice sounded delighted, “My, my, you’ve certainly filled out. What a shame the joining removes the men from their boys.” 

Hawke chuckled, but Carver didn’t bristle, like he would have three years ago. Instead he simply smirked, and in a voice of a pleasant deep tenor he rumbled,

“We rarely have children, it’s true. But I find it means I try ever so much...harder.” 

He practically purred the last word, and his blue eyes scanned the table to rest on Fenris.

The elf found his body heating up in response as Isabela cackled in delight.

Carver finally found a seat at the table, somehow managing to seat himself opposite Fenris, and flashed the elf a grin.

“Hello Fenris,” he greeted.

“Carver.”

~*~

His body was on fire, but the feeling was exquisite.

There was no pain, no searing agony, it was worlds away from the attentions of Danarius and Hadriana; and yet Fenris had given his control, his freedom, into the hands of another. 

Carver took his time with him, lavishing him with tongue and light teeth, his lips finding their way to the delicate point of his ear and spending time there. His careful, methodical affection made Fenris’ body melt, and stoked the arousal higher and higher.

The warrior had such large hands, but they were incredibly gentle. He’d seen them, wrapped around the hilt of his massive greatsword, more times than he could count, but now he had those hands on his skin.

“Tell me Fenris, why me?”

The young man asked, voice authoritative but inquisitive. Fenris couldn’t help the small smile as he pressed himself closer to the tall man.

:”I knew you’d be like this.”

~*~

Fenris had been idly playing around with the idea of asking the younger Hawke brother to share his bed, but up until now it had been a nebulous concept rather than a solid idea.

This changed one evening in Hightown, after Fenris heard a muffled shriek from a courtyard nearby. 

He frowned, hesitating.

A trap? Possibly. Risky? Yes…

It could be slavers…

Slowly he inched towards the passage and then carefully peered around the corner. Just in time to see one of the thugs go flying as a man in solid silver and blue armour, charged him. It was tightly controllled, ferocious, but the armoured man didn’t pursue his quarry. He simply stopped before the shape of the quivering, shaking woman that the five men had cornered.

“This aint no concern of yours!” One of the louts friends spat. 

Carver Hawke stared at him and wrinkled his nose before folding his arms,”And you really think I’m going to leave, and leave her to you pieces of sorry dogshit?”

“We c’n teach y’ a lesson!” Another snarled before a third elbowed him in the gut.

“Don’ be a damn’d fool! Lookit, thas Grey Warden armour.”

“That’s right.” Carver said agreeably, not moving out of his combat stance.

“Whossays, he’s a ward’n!” The first man growled, clearly not ready to give up yet, “ ‘e could have stolen it!”

“Why don’t you come and try your luck then, you sack of misbegotten ooze.” Carver dared, grinning ferally, “Your friend just got a little taste.”

The four men standing, eyed their groaning and struggling to rise, friend and hesitated.

“C’mon Lorbe,” one of the men hissed, grabbing the first’s arm, “ ‘is not worth it.”

Reluctantly the thugs withdrew and Carver turned to kneel before the young woman.

“Are you alright?” He asked, reaching out to help her up, hands running lightly and impersonally over her limbs, “You did good there, gave him a good scratch.”

His hands were incredibly gentle, and Fenris saw the young woman relax into his touches, and even smile shakily. Slowly he withdrew, and slipped home, thinking hard about what he’d seen.

~*~

He was on Carver’s lap, allowing him the freedom of movement, while still being firmly in the Warden’s thrall. The man was strong, able to lift him and manhandle him easily.

But his hands were always gentle.

Fear had almost swamped him as the head of Carver’s cock rubbed lightly against his hole, but the Warden had seen, and his lips had found his softly. He didn’t push, he didn’t press, he simply soothed him until Fenris relaxed, and began to enjoy the slow rock of Carver’s length against his body.

Carver allowed him to sink onto him at his own pace, voice a constant low rumble of reassurance, hands running over his sides and arse, his eyes on Fenris’ own. The blue was darker like this, when he was aroused and intimate, and it gave Fenris a thrill.

The Warden was in charge, he was the one in control.

But Fenris had power too.

He was the one who made Carver breath a quiet, “Shit,” when he was fully seated on his length. He was the one who made those large hands clutch reflexively when he rolled his hips. He was the one who drew that deep growl from the man’s throat when Fenris quickened his pace.

“Please…” Fenris gasped.

“Now,” Carver growled.

~*~

“Are you sure this is what you want?” Carver looked down at Fenris, seeing the hunched shoulders, the defensive body language of the prickly elf. Maker but he was beautiful, he’d always thought so...but this.

Fenris needed him, needed a Master in bed. Without that, without that submission he was unable to achieve release, to find pleasure.

And he’d chosen Carver.

“I am certain.” Fenris’ green eyes met his, “If you are willing.”

There was no hesitation.

“It will be my pleasure Fenris.”

~*~

Fenris’ body bowed and he shuddered as his orgasm hit him, given permission by his master.

“Carver,” he sobbed the word, wracked by tremors and instantly he felt warmth surround him as Carver cradled him close.

Those gentle hands caressed his hair, soothing him and those warm lips pressed little kisses over his neck and ear.

“You’re safe,” That deep voice rumbled, surrounding him and enfolding him, “I’ve got you Fenris...you can let go.”

And Fenris did.

~*~

You see a great deal.


End file.
